


if there's a light at the end

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Happy Ending, Hurt Sheriff Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"sterek + run away with me"</p>
<p>“Run away with me,” Stiles repeats, lifting his head to meet Derek’s gaze.  His amber eyes shine with unshed tears, full of so much pain that Derek feels the echoing ache of it behind his ribs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if there's a light at the end

**Author's Note:**

> http://kirasmalydia.tumblr.com/post/132162552534/sterek-run-away-with-me

“Run away with me.”

Stiles’ voice is quiet, hollow. It’s the first time he’s spoken in almost five hours – four hours and fifty four minutes to be exact; Derek’s been staring at the clock, trying to think of _something_ helpful he can do – and his voice fills the silent room, rough but steady. Derek’s so relieved to finally hear Stiles say something that it takes a moment for the weight of the words to hit him.

“Stiles,” he says softly, lifting his head.

The younger man is sat opposite him, body hunched forward, hands clasped between splayed knees. One leg bounces, a fast rhythm that would normally drive Derek mad, but he knows Stiles needs it; movement is his way of expressing himself. Whether through frustrated shapes drawn in the air with strong hands or short, sharp paces across a room, Stiles is a constant flurry of movement. 

“Run away with me,” Stiles repeats, lifting his head to meet Derek’s gaze. His amber eyes shine with unshed tears, full of so much pain that Derek feels the echoing ache of it behind his ribs.

He swallows. “You don’t really want that,” he keeps his tone gentle, but anger flashes across Stiles’ face.

“It is,” he insists. “I can’t – I can’t do this, Derek. I can’t stay here and just wait, knowing what they’re gonna tell me. Just...come with me.”

Derek knows the appeal of it. He’s been there; he knows what it’s like to watch your whole world be ripped away from you. He knows what it’s like to just run, to run from everything and keep going, keep racing away from those demons.

But the thing is, they always catch up. He can’t keep running forever. Stiles can’t watch his dad die, but running won’t help him. Derek wants nothing more than to take Stiles away, to spend their lives on the road, never thinking beyond the stretch of miles ahead of them. He wants to keep Stiles safe, protect him from anything that can ever hurt him.

But he can’t. One day, they’ll have to stop, they’ll have to face everything. Stiles isn’t a teenager anymore. He’s a man and he’s so strong; he’s faced things that have forced him to become the person he is today. And if Derek takes him away, someday, Stiles will resent him for it. 

He can’t let Stiles run away from this. Maybe John won’t pull through, but Derek will be there if that happens. But if he does, if he survives and wakes up and Stiles isn’t there – Derek knows Stiles will never forgive himself.

So he says, voice soft, “You know I can’t.”

The raw emotion on Stiles’ face breaks Derek’s heart, but even worse is the way he shuts down almost immediately after, putting up those walls. He hasn’t looked at Derek like this in so long and it feels like hands around his ribcage, ripping it open. 

“You want to run because you’re scared of losing him,” Derek continues quietly, “And I get that, Stiles, I really, really do. I’ve spent half my life running for the same reasons. So trust me when I say it doesn’t work. And I won’t let you do that to yourself. I love you too much for that.”

Stiles’ jaw wobbles, just for a moment, and he turns his face away before Derek can see him cry. He aches to reach out and hold him, but he knows it isn’t welcome right now, so he just stays. Stiles knows he never has to fear being vulnerable around Derek. Finally, Stiles drags in a shaky breath and gets to his feet, starting to walk away.

Derek’s painfully aware that they’re on a knife edge. He can’t win, not in this moment; Stiles will hate him – maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a year’s time, but someday – for letting him run from this. But he resents Derek right now for saying no. 

“One week,” Derek says quickly and feels a hard rush of relief when Stiles stops, listens. “If nothing happens in a week, if your dad’s still...” Stiles flinches, the line of his shoulders tense, and Derek pushes through, “If you still want to, ask me again in a week and my answer will be yes.”

He hears the rasp of Stiles’ breath, but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t look at Derek. There’s a quick, almost imperceptible nod of Stiles’ head before he walks away.

 

 

Stiles doesn’t ask Derek to stay away, so he doesn’t. He’s there, every day, at the hospital. 

John is his friend. He’s a constant in Derek’s small circle of family; he’s pulled through for Derek too many times for count. Derek’s going to be there for him. If the outcome isn’t good...he’ll be there too. And he’s always going to be there for Stiles, even when his partner doesn’t think he needs him. He will be there to hold him if he needs, to gather up the pieces and glue Stiles back together, the way Stiles has done for him. 

Stiles is quiet. He talks to Scott, a little, and to the doctor. Mostly, he talks to his dad. Holds his hand and gazes at the pale face, talking in a hushed voice for hours on end, until his throat is raw. Derek tries hard not to listen in, but it’s difficult, when each hitching, tearful note in Stiles’ voice has him aching to comfort. 

The waiting room is always full. Derek, Stiles, Scott and Mrs McCall are the constants, but the others visit a couple of times a day. Frustration buzzes under Derek’s skin, this constant feeling that he’s not doing enough. He wasn’t there to stop John from getting hurt. He can’t fix him, can’t make him well again. So he takes to doing the small things he can do; getting coffee and tea, handing Stiles water when his voice runs thin, tucking a blanket around him or Scott in the evenings when they get drowsy but don’t want to sleep in case something happens. It doesn’t feel like enough, nowhere near, but he notices the looks Stiles gives him, full of wordless gratitude, and it puts Derek at ease, just a little.

Six days later, John wakes up.

After so long of waiting, minutes dragging into hours into days, everything’s suddenly a whirlwind. There’s Stiles in his arms, sobbing and clutching at him, and there’s doctors speaking to them, and then there’s John, giving them this weak little smile, and finally, there’s relief, because there’s a long recovery ahead of the Sheriff, but he’s alive and he’ll be _okay_.

Derek gives Stiles’ shoulder a little squeeze and John a nod, and then leaves, giving them privacy. 

Melissa hands him a cup of tea in the waiting room, gives him a warm smile, and he thanks her quietly, sipping the hot drink. He’s so tired, physically and emotionally after the turmoil of the past week, and he feels Scott drape a blanket over him, the cup taken away before his eyes slip shut.

He wakes to gentle fingers in his hair. Derek smiles slightly, opening his eyes to look into warm amber. Stiles looks as tired as Derek feels, pale with dark circles under his eyes, but that hard, broken rawness in his face and body has been ripped away, leaving soft lines and relief and Derek’s chest finally loosens completely.

“Hey,” Stiles says softly.

Derek smiles. “Hey.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “For everything. This past week, you’ve been...” he shakes his head slightly. “I couldn’t have got through this without you, Derek. Thank you.”

Derek takes the hand that’s waving around slightly in the air, brushing a kiss across Stiles’ knuckles. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Stiles is quiet for a moment, gaze fixed on Derek, full of a kind of awe. “I was set to leave,” he says, voice quieter, almost ashamed. “I was going to run. And it would have been a mistake. I know that now. It was the worst decision and you...you knew that. You stopped me from doing something I would have regretted.”

Derek swallows, offers a small smile. “It might have been a little bit selfish. I knew you’d resent me.”

“Not nearly as much as I’d resent myself. But you were there. You kept me together, you kept a level head when I was a mess. Derek, I...thank you.”

Derek cups his face, kisses him softly. “I love you.”

Stiles’ lips are soft, breath warm across Derek’s cheek as he murmurs, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com - come say hi? :)


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